


Touch

by Lady_Ganesh



Category: Kyou Kara Maou!
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Crossdressing, Future Fic, Hand Kink, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, ballgowns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-17
Updated: 2010-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 16:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/114519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Ganesh/pseuds/Lady_Ganesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today is the first day of the rest of Yozak's life. He's not sure how he feels about it.</p><p><a href="http://threewalls.dreamwidth.org/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://threewalls.dreamwidth.org/"><strong>threewalls</strong></a> is the best kind of beta; thanks again for catching me. Any remaining mistakes are entirely mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

  
In the thirty-fifth year of His Majesty King Yuuri's reign Yozak Gurrier finally accepted that he'd live and die alone.

Conrad was his friend still, had always been that, would always be that. But Yozak put the last of his dreams for anything more aside.

It saddened him a bit, as he'd always, on some level, known it would; but he hadn't expected how free it would make him feel, a weight he hadn't known he was carrying finally lifted.

How simple to accept the Captain as simply that. Companion. Friend. Comrade.

It was entirely coincidence that on his next mission Yozak was almost eaten by an angry liger.

He woke up in the medical ward at Blood Pledge Castle, willing his blurry vision to right itself, wondering why it was suddenly so warm and comfortable out on the tundra.

"You're awake," Gwendal von Walde said at his elbow, his voice quiet and measured.

"My lord--" Yozak said, and tried to sit up. Gwendal's hand shot out and stilled his chest.

"You're not to move."

Yozak's body repeated the order, now that he'd gone and violated it. The pain started at his spine and moved outward. How many bones had he broken?

"I'll get Gisela," Gwendal said, and disappeared, a martial, worried-looking bustle. Yozak squinted at his retreating figure and wondered how much longer he could stay conscious in this much pain.

The answer was long enough for Gisela to come in, frown, ask a few hurried, concerned questions, and uncap a needle that held cool, sudden relief. Gwendal hovered in the background, an impotent green blur.  


With the pain easing, it was easier to focus. Gwendal's hands were pressed together, moving, repeating a familiar motion, knitting maybe, maybe crochet. Yozak closed his eyes and said, "Thank you."

  


"It's my job," Gisela said, pressing a cool hand on his forehead. Blessed, wonderful Gisela. "Now don't move for a bit, all right? Stay here and talk to Lord von Voltaire."

"How long has it been--"

"One of our sentries found you on the border," Gwendal said, his voice still low. "You almost froze to death."

"And that's on top of your wounds," Gisela said. "Liger?"

"Yes," Yozak said, suppressing the urge to nod. "I made it to the border?"

"You're tremendously strong," Gwendal said. "At least that's what I was told."

_Huh._ Yozak decided to keep his eyes closed. It was funny, when the claw came ripping through his shoulder, he hadn't expected to make it as far as the border. Maybe the thing had dragged him.

Whatever drug Gisela had given him was making the world spread out, soften, ease.

It was really quite pleasant.

  


  
When Yozak woke up the second time, Gwendal was still there. This time, he really was knitting, steadily working on what was probably a scarf, but with Gwendal you could never be sure. "Hey," Yozak said, and Gwendal started just a little.

Heh.

"You think you could get some more of that medicine?" Yozak asked. "Or Gisela?" It didn't hurt as much as last time, but it still _hurt._

"Yes," Gwendal said, and rose from his chair. Yozak kept his eyes closed until Gwendal returned with Gisela and more of the delicious coolness. "Thank you," he said, but Gisela had already bustled on.

"Are you-- is there anything I can get you to eat or drink?" Gwendal asked, the lines on his face visible now that Yozak's focus was back. There was an ominous redness around his eyes. "Gisela says you can take a little nourishment by mouth now, if you'd like."

"Nah, I'm good," Yozak said, feeling remarkably better now the injection had taken hold. "Can I--"

He reached out. He realized later he never would've done it sober, but now he caught Gwendal's hand in his own. Gwendal hid his shock quickly.

"Your hand's big," Yozak said, dreamily. It _was_ big, and in addition to the usual set of calluses Yozak expected from a swordsman there were a few other, smaller areas of roughness. "What's this?" he asked, rubbing his fingertip against a shiny spot just above the knuckle of Gwendal's forefinger.

"Ah," Gwendal said. "That's from knitting. Annissina insists if I learned Big Shimaron style it would be easier on my fingers, but I have reminded her many times that I experience far worse with sword practice."

"Of course," Yozak said, and fell back asleep.

As the days went on, Yozak stayed awake for longer and longer periods; long enough to tell Gisela what he remembered of being injured, to debrief Gwendal-- who still spent a good deal of time at his bedside-- on the last mission, to reassure the worried Maou that yes, he _was_ still alive, and of course he'd be fine, and His Majesty needed to stop worrying so much.

Gwendal had taken his hand again after Yuuri left, and Yozak had slowly, gratefully, curled his fingers around Gwendal's. He didn't know what it meant, and maybe that didn't matter. Having Gwendal there mattered, his solid presence, the warmth of his hand.

It took another week for Yozak to really start worrying, and a few days after that for him to finally out and say it: "I'm done, aren't I?"

Gwendal had been hand-sewing something together; a sandbear, maybe, maybe a ladyrabbit. White and black, anyway. "The Maou and I have been discussing the situation," he said, with practiced dignity. "We have come to the disconcerting realization that you are irreplaceable."

Yozak, who could sit up by now, scratched the top of his head. "Yeah?"

"It is a problem," Gwendal announced, carefully setting his sewing aside.

Yozak had been finding grey hairs for a while now. The injury had just been the last reminder of what he'd already known. But maybe he wasn't done. Not if they still needed him. Not if he was irreplacable.

"A kingdom cannot survive on the wit of a single spy, no matter how strong or skilled," Gwendal continued. "We need to reassign you."

_You can't,_ Yozak wanted to say. _Please._

Gwendal took Yozak's hands in his, reassurance Yozak was no longer sure he wanted. "We need you," he said, his voice steady and serious, "to train the next generation of spies."

"Train?" Yozak stared down at the hands holding his own. "I'm not a teacher." It wasn't fair. Wasn't fair that he'd worked this long and this hard, just to be put out to pasture. Wasn't fair that after all those years of chasing the dream of Conrad, he'd find himself falling for the Captain's honored elder brother. Wasn't fair that after all these years of no one caring, two people cared _just enough_ to end his career, and did Gwendal have to keep _touching_ him, too?

"We would, of course, provide a generous travel and costume allowance," Gwendal said, and if that didn't sound like a bribe, what did? "It is clearly vital for our agents to be familiar with human lands and customs, and your tactic of immersion has proven very successful. We--"

Yozak let go of Gwendal and pulled his hands back. "I'd like to be alone for a while," he said.

"Of course." Gwendal's face showed no surprise, and if there was hurt there, Yozak didn't want to see it. "If you have questions, I am prepared to answer on behalf of His Majesty."

"Of course," Yozak echoed, not raising his eyes. Looking at Gwendal would be surrender now. "I'll let you know if I have any."

Gwendal rose slowly this time, and Yozak became aware of how much effort it took a man of his size to fit into the folding chair next to Yozak's hospital bed. "Yozak," he said, before he closed the door behind him. "I hope you understand--"

"I understand," Yozak said darkly. "I'll be seeing you."

The best thing, he reflected later, about Gisela's pain medication was the way it prevented you from dreaming.

  


  
Gwendal's absence in the morning hurt more than it should have.

Yozak gathered a second helping of courage and asked Gisela how much longer he would have to stay in the hospital, how much of the man he had been would be able to walk out when he left. His thumb ached for the callus on Gwendal's forefinger, but he gritted his teeth and listened. It was worse than he'd hoped but better than he feared.

A limp. He could work around a limp. He'd worked around worse.

Conrad came in the afternoon. He looked exhausted, and Yozak wondered how far he'd ridden, how fast. "What do they say--"

"It'll be months," Yozak said. "Maybe a year. But if I do everything she tells me to, I'll get out of it with a touchy knee. Might need a cane on wet days, that's all."

"I'm so glad," he said, and reached over to grasp Yozak's shoulder, gently, cautiously. His hands were leaner than his brother's, still strong, still calloused. There was, of course, no shiny spot just above the first knuckle of his forefinger. "Do you remember it at all?"

Yozak had come to remember quite a bit of it, and Conrad sat at his side while he recited the whole story, from the routine intelligence-gathering to the unexpected attack. No one had asked to hear it start to finish before, probably out of respect for his injury; but it felt good to get it all out. And it was good to have Conrad at his side. Conrad had always understood him better than anyone, and he understood Yozak's need to talk.

When the story was finally done-- Yozak ended at the medical ward, without touching on any uncomfortable details about the Maou's conscience or Conrad's honored elder brother-- Conrad sat back and told his own story, about his travels in Suberera. It was good to focus on news outside the kingdom, and Conrad told a good story, when he didn't bother making too many jokes.

But Yozak was still injured, and his eyes were threatening to close on their own when Gisela came and chased Conrad out of the medical ward. Conrad promised to come tomorrow, and pulled a stuffed animal from his pocket, looking slightly worse for wear from its travels. "Gwendal asked me to give you this," he said, looking appropriately embarrassed. "He said it was a commemoration of the battle you fought, so I think it's supposed to be a liger."

It looked more like a bearbee. Yozak took it and examined it carefully. It did have miniature claws, carefully depicted with satin thread. Yozak put his thumbnail on a felt fang and laughed until tears came out of his eyes.

He was still at it, half-laughing, half-crying, as Conrad held him; the best friend he'd ever have, and nothing more.

  


  
Conrad, using an almost magical mix of logic, guilt and his own charms, persuaded Gisela to help him load Yozak into a wheelchair, and took him on rides around Blood Pledge Castle, sending the chair skidding around corners and careening down ramps when they were both fairly certain no one was looking. It was like being young men again, free and wild and careless. Yozak hadn't realized how much his love had grown to oppress his friendship; freed from its burden, they were comfortable together again, teasing one another as they hadn't in years.

They were both exhausted as Conrad wheeled him back to the medical ward, wheezing with laughter, giddy as two kids who'd snuck out past curfew.

Which was when Conrad rounded a corner too quickly and smashed his honored elder brother's foot.

_"Conrad!"_ Gwendal yelped, moving back with surprising speed. "What are you--" His eyes fell on Yozak, and the shout died in his throat. "Yozak," he said, after a moment's pause. "I trust you're feeling better?"

"Yes," Yozak said, measuring his words out carefully. "Much better, thank you."

Gwendal nodded stiffly. His hands were clasped together, and Yozak could see him fighting the urge to knit. "I'm pleased to hear that," he said, and carefully limped away.

Yozak turned his face away.

  


  
Gisela kept a more careful eye on them the next day, and anyway Conrad had practice with his baseball team, so Yozak was alone at noon, picking away at the special lunch Gisela had prescribed, when the Maoh came to visit again.

Yuuri looked as tired as he'd seemed in the early, chaotic days of his rule. "Gisela told me how much better you're doing," he said. "I'm really glad." He handed Yozak a box of chocolates from Earth. "You're not supposed to have these," he whispered, and winked. Yuuri loved a good conspiracy as much as Yozak did.

He was a man now, not the anxious teenager he'd once been, but he still retained much of what Yozak remembered of that young man, and it suited his adult self, though his aggressive sincerity was still a bit too much at times. Still, his smile was a pleasure, and his concern oddly touching.  


"Look," he said, settling down easily in the chair that so ill-suited Gwendal, "I know you want to keep doing what you're doing. I would too. But you've got to understand, when a player gets older, they need to pass on their skills to the next generation, and a good base coach...."  


It was a baseball metaphor, and therefore could safely be ignored. Yozak let him rattle on, well-meaning if incomprehensible, and only started paying attention again toward the Encouraging Conclusion, which had something to do with succession and raising the team's overall stats. Whatever 'stats' were.

"And I know you think we're just trying to help you out, but honestly, it's hard doing two people's paperwork, and Conrad--"

"Two people's paperwork?"

Yuuri frowned at him like he was stupid. "Gwendal hasn't touched his since we heard," he said, as if explaining something to Yozak he should already know.

Yozak nodded, like he'd already known this, and Yuuri's terrible metaphor picked up speed again. There was something about a win-loss record involved.

After the Maoh left, Yozak wondered what Gwendal'd been doing the past few days, if it wasn't paperwork.

  


  
He got his answer two days later.

Conrad was telling him about the latest triumph of the baseball team-- when you're the only nation with a standing baseball team, you tend to succeed in tournaments-- when Gwendal came in, and almost backed right out again.

"It's okay," Yozak said, substituting bravado for courage. "Come in."

"I wished to apologize," Gwendal said. He was holding a package in his arms. "Neither I nor the Maoh intended to insult you or your years of honorable service to Shin Mazoku."

"I know." He had known that, all along.  
The package was wrapped in brown paper and contained a tiered, strapless ballgown in champagne-colored silk. Garlands of beading decorated the scoop neckline. Even in the cold light of the medical ward, it glittered like a diamond.

Yozak stared at it. It was glorious, and the beads had to have been sewn on by hand. Yozak could picture Gwendal in his office, paperwork piling up unnoticed, strong hands guiding the fine needle. "Gwendal," he said, when he found his voice.

"I thought the color would suit you," Gwendal stammered. "If it is inadequate--"

"It's beautiful," Yozak said. It was, he noted, long enough to cover a knee brace. "I know just when I'll wear it."

Conrad had disappeared; Gwendal took the chair he'd vacated, bending his knees carefully. "You're sure--"

"I'm sure." Yozak put his hand out now, and Gwendal caught it. _Oh._ Yozak swallowed. Gisela would surely disapprove of the way his heart was pounding now. _How long were you in love with me,_ he thought, _when I was too stupid to notice?_

Yozak pulled their joined hands up to his face. Gwendal started, just a little, and then stayed perfectly still as Yozak kissed Gwendal's fingers, one by one. He ended with the callus just above his index finger, the one he knew so well by now.

There wasn't a choice to be made, really. It was one thing, as Yuuri had tried to point out in his wholly inadequate way, when you were alone and risking your own fool neck. It was another when you were part of a kingdom; it was something else still when there was someone who loved you waiting, worrying, at home.

Gwendal reached out with his free hand and touched Yozak's hair, and the caress was as steady and measured as the beads on the silk in Yozak's lap. Yozak closed his eyes. He had imagined this so many times in the past few days; what a pleasure it was, to have a real touch, to be holding Gwendal's warm hand in his.

By the time Gisela came to throw him out, Gwendal was actually _smiling._

  


  
Master Gurrier was the best instructor in Shin Mazoku and maybe, the students often thought, the whole world.

Lord Weller and Lord von Christ were unmatched with swordsmanship, but Lord von Christ fell to pieces at any mention of His Majesty, and Lord Weller _would_ insist on telling terrible jokes and trying to recruit all his students onto the baseball team.

Master Gurrier treated both the baseball team and the Maoh with exactly the respect they deserved-- often both subjects merited eyerolling-- and more importantly, taught his students _real_ skills; fitting in, dressing up, staying alive. Rumor had it he'd only retired because of a one-man fight with a pack of arctic liger, and he'd skinned the ligers alive in the end.

Best of all were the lucky students who'd been chosen for Shin Mazoku's espionage service. Not only did they receive hours of private instruction with Master Gurrier, their graduation ceremony bested any to be found in the human nations. At the very end, Master Gurrier appeared in a champagne-colored ballgown that, it was rumored, even Lady Cecilie envied. Having Yozak tell the world-- or at least the assembled crowd-- how proud he was of you and your accomplishments was, in the end, the greatest honor of all.  


The Maou's honored steward, Lord von Voltaire, often sat and politely applauded at the ceremony, and for many it was the first close glimpse of the man who would one day be giving them assignments. He was always somber and intimidating at formal ceremonies, and graduation was no exception.  


Still, everyone knew the hand-sewn stuffed animals they were given at the close of the ceremony came from him, and sometimes they saw a hint of a smile on his face.

If you lingered too long after graduation, the rumors went, sometimes you could see Master Gurrier and Lord von Voltaire walking back to the castle together, Master Gurrier leaning heavily on his husband after the hours spent standing, Lord von Voltaire's green-clad arm tight around Master Gurrier's waist.

Once a student claimed they'd seen Lord von Voltaire _carrying_ Master Gurrier home, but no one put too much stock in that particular rumor.

  


  
"I received a message from young Coppelia today," Gwendal said, helping Yozak through the door. They had graduated a record ten students this afternoon, and Yozak's knee had felt the pressure far too keenly. "Her report on Small Shimaron will be invaluable in our negotations."

Yozak smiled. "And she's well?"

"She is your student," Gwendal said. "She is perfectly fine and perfectly capable."

"You should see her in a tuxedo," Yozak said proudly.

Gwendal took Yozak's cane from the door and handed it to him; he'd use it again, now the ceremony was over. It didn't look right with the ballgown. "Are you all right?"

"Tired," Yozak confessed. "I think I want a nap." He reached over and caught Gwendal's hand. "Join me?"

"Do you want to _nap?"_ Gwendal asked.

"Eventually."

"I have to--"

"It can wait," Yozak said, using his thumb to stroke the back of Gwendal's hand. "Can't it?"

It could.


End file.
